A Life Worth Living
by It's Fnicking Awesomeness
Summary: An account of the Battle of the Five Armies from Kili's point of view. Read at your own risk. Not responsible for destroyed feels. One shot.


Kili quickly sheathed his bow, for he knew that there was no room to shoot arrows in this close-quarters battle. He was surrounded by goblins, dwarves, elves, Wargs, and men in a disorienting clash of deafening noise and blinding movement. Looking about, he began to panic. He was the youngest in the company- not even eighty years old! – and, as much as he loved to protest it, he was hardly ready for such a large battle as this. Despair and hopelessness crashed upon him as he gazed upon the Five Armies, the blood-shed, and the misery that was all around him. He did not even have his brother with him- his heart sunk even further at that thought. In that moment, he felt old- much older than Thorin, even- and he felt the weight of the world bend his shoulders.

"Brother- to me!" Fili's shout snapped him back to the battle at hand, and he eagerly whipped his head around to find where Fili was fighting, brown hair flying. After a moment of tense searching, he finally spotted him- surrounded by four goblins. Within a moment he was at his elder brother's side, drawing his long sword and hacking at any goblin that dared come too close to Fili. He felt some of the earlier sorrow leave him as he once again fought by his brother's side, as he knew that as long as they were together, nothing could stop them. They had their backs to one another, spinning in a circle and dispatching enemies in a dance that they had perfected long ago, as only brothers could. Though, as many evil creatures they seemed to slay, yet more poured down from beyond the hills and around the mountain. Kili could already feel the exhaustion seeping into his limbs, and his sword had never felt so heavy. "Fili! We must-" His yell was cut short as a Warg attacked him during his moment of distraction.

The element of surprise was with the Warg, as well as its brute strength, and Kili fell to the ground with a yelp, the jaws of the beast clamped tightly around his lower left leg. It dragged him away from his sword and his brother, each jerking tug feeling like a new wound. "Fili!" Kili shouted, scrabbling for something to hold onto to halt the Warg's process. Pure terror coursed through him as he thought that this was it. He would die a Warg's meal, Fili would have to fight on his own, and he would not live to see the end of the battle.

But, as soon as Fili had seen his brother fall, he had run into action. Finishing off the closest enemies, he had sprinted over to his brother, grabbing his fallen sword on the way. He viciously attacked the Warg, distracting it long enough for Kili to wrench his leg free and crawl away. Kili watched apprehensively as his brother took on the Warg alone, but apparently his fury was too great for the Warg, and it was soon slain.

Fili returned to Kili's side, handing him his sword. "Better be more careful, brother." Fili said gruffly, helping Kili stand. "I might not see ya next time." Fili's words were harsh, but Kili knew how worried and scared Fili had been. It was in the way he had so ferociously attacked the Warg, the way he wouldn't stop looking Kili over for wounds, and in the way he clung tightly to Kili's arm long after he was on his own two feet.

"The eagles are coming!" someone nearby shouted, right before he was bitten in half by a fearsome Warg. Looking at each other for a moment, the two brothers leapt onto the Warg- Kili on its back, Fili at its throat- and quickly killed it, leaving the body to rot. "Ya hear that, brother o' mine? The eagles have arrived to our aid!" Fili yelled, clapping Kili on the shoulder. Kili grinned back, saying, "Aye brother, I can hear just fine. Not sure 'bout you, though." Fili shook his head teasingly, shaking Kili's shoulder.

They re-joined the battle with somewhat renewed fervour, glad that they had not been ended yet. Continuing to whirl the deadly dance of battle, the two brothers made a formidable match on the battlefield. Those who did not fall before them ran away beyond the mountain, and Kili and Fili could often be seen grinning at each other or slapping quick high fives for their successes. Continuing in this fashion, they indeed made their ancestors proud and their names remembered.

His leg throbbing with pain, Kili found himself leaning into his brother as they spun around each other, faltering in his step. Gritting his teeth he refused to fall, forcing his min to override the message of pain. He ignored the fiery pain in his limb, fighting alongside his brother being much, much more important. Kili faltered, however, as he heard a cry sound from somewhere behind him. The Goblin he was in the midst of fighting took its chance and landed a solid blow of his axe to Kili's right shoulder. Roaring in pain, Kili struck at the goblin, his sword sinking deep into his gut. As the goblin fell to the ground, Kili turned around, smothering pained breaths from his new wound, listening for the shout again. He heard it a few moments later, and with a chill he recognized it. It was their Uncle Thorin, and he was in need of help.

Grabbing Fili by the back of his armour as he finished off another small Warg, Kili sped towards what he could now see was Thorin, surrounded by no less than twelve gigantic goblin guards. He had very few troops about him, and they were surrounding themselves into a (pitiful, really) circle around the king. "Thorin!" Kili shouted as he crashed into the defending circle (still dragging a very confused Fili). Thorin gave a nod and a slight smile to show his delight that his nephews had come when needed most.

As Kili and Fili steadied themselves, squeezing into the tight defensive circle, Fili prodded with his elbow Kili. When he glanced towards him, Fili whispered nervously, "Brother, if we survive this, I promise never to tease ya 'bout your beard again." Kili swallowed thickly, fear creeping up his spine. _If. _He nodded anyhow. "I'll hold ya to it." He muttered, looking straight ahead. He took a deep breath, looked into Fili's worried eyes, and then braced himself for the onslaught. He forced his shaking hands to still and his burning leg and shoulder to quiet.

After Borg gave his growled order, all Kili could see was death. Dwarven soldiers fell to the side of him; goblin guards fell before him; elven fighters died around him. Death, blood, suffering… he felt as though he could never _not _see it, that it was the world entirely. He spun and stabbed and hacked, but it did not seem to make a difference. Many good men and dwarves were dying, many more goblins were coming, and he was growing weary. Hopelessness once again crashed upon him as before the battle, although sharper and more pronounced. There was no possible way that this battle would end for the better, whether they won or not. Whether they died or not.

After he had temporarily incapacitated a somewhat large goblin, he attempted to catch his breath. The wound on his shoulder had made his entire arm numb, so he was forced to fight with his other hand, his less skilled hand. The earlier Warg bite on his leg was extremely painful, and he almost had to hop around on his right leg. Overall he was incredibly battered and bruised; with goblin, Warg, and his own blood mixed together staining his armour. Hearing a pained shout sound out, he turned quickly to see how Thorin was faring. What he saw made his very blood freeze and his very breathe halt.

Thorin swayed on the spot, no less than five goblin arrows sticking into him like pins all about his body. The left side of his face was caked and covered in blood, and Kili could see a large gash where his helmet should have been. His armour was rent in many places, and there were splashes of blood on the ground below. Kili watched in horror as his uncle crashed to the ground, unresponsive to anything. He heard a shocked cry from his right, and he knew that Fili, too, had seen. With barely a glance at each other, Fili and Kili sprang forward to defend their fallen kin.

The goblins and Wargs that would have had their chance at the helpless king paused for a moment. The moment, however short it was, was long enough for Fili and Kili to attack at once, slashing at the noses and heads of the enemies. This was their uncle, their kin, their king that they were protecting- they would stand, together, until there was nothing left to stand for. With war cries sounding, they began fighting the horde of vile creatures away from Thorin. They hacked and sliced away the fiends for what seemed like hours, the going neither bad nor good, before the unthinkable happened.

In reality, it had only been a moment. That was all it took- just a single moment of time for everything to change. Kili had drawn away from Fili- no more than ten yards, maybe eight- to fight the next beast. As he stuck his sword through its stomach, he jerked it out, and felt something… amiss. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he saw no blonde head or dual swords. As he realized that he had wandered away from Fili's side, he whipped around to find him, anxious even though only a few seconds had passed. Although, as he turned around and finally located his brother, he realized with an ice cold certainty that all it takes is a few seconds.

Kili froze, rooted to the spot, unable to move if he tried. He watched, as if in slow motion, Fili get struck by the first black arrow. It sliced into his stomach, the head sticking clear out of his back. Blood dripped seemingly in slow motion off of its point onto the ground. Fili gasped, pure shock on his face, hands holding his stomach, straining for air. Kili urged his limbs to move, his brain to function, his lungs to breath- but it was as if he had turned to stone. The same goblin archer narrowed its eyes, loaded another arrow, carefully aimed and shot again. It was a dead hit, directly to the chest. Blood gushed forth from the black arrow, painting the ground a dark crimson. Fili choked, shuddered once, looked into Kili's eyes, and then sank to the ground, unmoving.

His body unlocked, as if allowed to move again, and he felt as though he has been sliced open by the arrows himself. "FILI!" Kili screamed, running towards his brother, unheedful of the arrows or spears flying around him. As he reached Fili, he knelt down next to him, panicking, mind blank, unsure of what to do. Fili gave a weak cough, and blood bubbled from his lips. "NO! No no no no no!" Kili yelled, ripping strips of fabric from his cloak. He pressed them to the arrows embedded in his brother's flesh, breathing harsher as he saw how quickly they were soaked in his blood. His mind whirred uselessly, no ideas or thoughts presenting themselves. All he could do was stare horribly at the dark ruby liquid covering every inch of both flesh and ground.

"Fili! Fili? Can you hear me? Oh, Fili, please- can you hear me!" Kili cried, pressing a hand to Fili's face. It already was pale as snow, and tears pricked at Kili's eyes. As Fili's eyes fluttered open, they locked onto Kili, displaying clearly all of his emotions. "Fili- do not go to sleep! Stay with me here. You- you'll be fine. It'll be okay… it'll be o-okay… Fili…." The lump in his throat forbade him from saying anymore.

Fili smiled slightly through bloody lips, reaching up a weak hand to place on Kili's arm. "You… fought well, little brother. I… am proud. You have… become a worthy… soldier. Represent the name… of Durin well." he said, pausing to attempt to breathe or cough up more blood. Tears gathered in the corners of Kili's eyes, and he closed them, grabbing Fili's hand and holding it to his face. He felt as though his entire world was slipping through his grasp, and there was nothing to stop it or catch it below. His entire world, crashing to the ground, tinkling into tiny pieces.

"Brother… please do not leave me. I know not a life without you." Kili's tears began to fall, and he bowed his head, still holding onto Fili's hand. "I know not what to do without you. You have always been there…." Muffled sobs were all that followed.

Fili squeezed their hands together weakly. "Do not be… afraid. You shall do… just fine. I have… faith in you." His eyes shut once more, and in his last pained breath, he whispered, "Goodbye, Kili…." His grimacing face blanked, as though swept by an invisible hand, and his hand went limp in Kili's.

"Fili… Fili! Fili no! NO!" he cried, shaking his brother's lifeless body. Kili's sorrow overtook him, and he wept. Bent over Fili's lifeless body, still holding onto his rapidly cooling hand, he let the tears fall, sobs of anguish racking him. Fili and he… they had always been inseparable. From the moment of Kili's birth, they had not left each other's sides. In apprenticeship, in weapons training, in hunts, in journeys, in small battles- Fili had always been there, his big brother, having his back and saving him. Now… now he was gone. He was no more. There would be no one to have his back and no one to save him. He felt as though someone was slowly going through his body with a white hot dagger, slicing every feeling part into pieces. His entire body felt both frozen and on fire at once, as though it was devouring itself. The shadows of the world closed in around him, and he knew that no matter the day he would never see the light again. Half of his being was dead, never to return.

Gradually the sounds of the battle came back through his mourning. He remembered that Thorin had fallen, and that there was a chance he was not yet dead. He warred with himself, wanting to stay with his brother's body, desperate to have his brother back, begging that it was all sort of some terrible nightmare or disgusting joke. After a moment he forced himself to move, knowing that id Thorin fell too, he would have absolutely nothing left. Gritting his teeth, eyes blurry with yet more tears, he kissed Fili's brow, let go of his hand, and tore himself away from his body. Feeling as though he was leaving a large piece of himself behind, he bent and picked up Fili's prized sword. He slowly lifted it, turned about, and charged the remaining goblin guard surrounding Thorin, shouting "FOR FILI!"

If Fili had fought fiercely against that Warg that harmed Kili, that was a butterfly compared to an orc for how Kili fought. There was no Warg, goblin, man, elf, or dwarf that could sustain him. He slaughtered one after another, in memory of Fili and for Thorin, who he did not even know if he was alive still. In a matter of minutes, the crowd attempting to finish off his uncle had been cut in half. His rage and sorrow were in equal parts, making him an undefeatable foe. Even though he was half blinded by tears and he could not feel his right arm or left leg, he did not let Fili die in vain, and he tried his hardest to defeat the entire enemy army by himself. Without Fili.

Kili, breath heavy and on the verge of a sob, stood in a defensive stance as every goblin and Warg suddenly stepped back. What was happening? Had they won? Were they surrendering? His answer came as Borg himself dismounted his enormous Warg and started walking towards him, footsteps shaking the earth. Kili automatically looked about for Fili, as he could not do this alone. After a moment of confusion, the grief crashed upon him anew, and he tightened his grip on Fili's sword, trying to blink away the tears that insisted on falling.

"You are very brave, young dwarf." Borg croaked in hideously deformed Dwarvish. "It is a pity that you shall not live to see another day." With that, Borg raised his enormous mace, swung it once, and then smashed it into Kili's chest. He flew backwards, right over Fili's body, and landed hard, knocking the wind out of him. Kili gasped and choked in pain, trying to fill his lungs with air. But they would not work. He looked down and saw dark red seep through his armour and drip onto the ground. He fell back against the ground, wheezing, the pain nearly blinding him as it hit him all at once. He could not breathe, most or all of his ribs were broken, and blood was leaking out of him at an alarming rate. He was going to die.

And yet… the thought did not frighten him as it did in the beginning of the battle. He felt… calm. Peaceful, almost. In death, perhaps, he could be reunited with Fili. Yes, that sounded nice. Perhaps in death they could once again be together, as brothers such as them should be. He felt almost happy, sanguine, knowing that an end to his life was near. For without Fili, he did not have a life worth living anymore. Looking up, he saw Fili's body, completely alone. With the last strength of a dying man, he dragged himself over to Fili, so that he may die in peace alongside his dear brother.

He flopped onto his back, head near Fili's, and grabbed onto his now ice cold hand. He could feel death's embrace- warm, soft, and dark, sliding over him like a blanket. He closed his eyes, ran a thumb over Fili's knuckles, and let himself fall into the embrace, welcoming it with open arms.


End file.
